Pulverize
by antierotic
Summary: College AU. Intense lemony drunken account of our Bubbline couple's love and hatred for each other. Loving those that you hate always ends explosively. Rated M. Please review :3
1. Chapter 1

They were NOT a thing.

Friends would be confused about the two of them; about why they spent so much time together if they truly hated each other, but it was complicated. Things happen. There's alcohol and hormones and whatever. No one could deny that Bonnibel was one of the best-looking girls in the incoming class, and that matters sometimes. Alright, alright maybe she was cool to hang out with too, when it came to movies and coming to see the Scream Queens, but that was it. She was also a huge judgemental, controlling, narcissistic nerd. One that was always scolding Marceline about smoking or yelling or chewing with her mouth open. No, they would never, ever be a 'thing'.

But shit gets complicated.

It was true, they did get it on pretty heavily at the basement show two weeks before, right after The Scream QUeens ended, but it was a total accident. Something about all the excitement and the drinking tricked them into it. Not to say it wasn't totally awesome, but it shouldn't have happened. The house was a little while off campus, and some of it was re-build into a DIY venue for the local college bands. Marceline really made an impression on the scene, for being a Freshman at least, and they killed it after headlining that night. She would blame everything that happened on the adrenaline.

They met over the summer, while she was forced to take some prerequisites on campus and she hated Bonnibel the moment they met.

"You need to put this in MLA format, and all your quotes aren't even cited," the other girl chided with a vicious tone. "Ugh, this could be considered plagiarism, haven't you ever written an essay?"

Bonnibel was allowed better financial aid for tutoring the summer kids, and boy did her fucking condescending attitude come out over research papers.

They ran into each other again during the first semester, being placed into the same Gen Ed classes. Art History being one of them, they were forced to spend more time together while more confrontations were bound to ensue. Studying became even harder.

"It's not dumb just because you suck at it," Marceline scoffed after Bonnibel insulted the class out of frustration.

"It is dumb, because it's useless." She raised her voice and scattered the index cards about The Renaissance. "We study all the time, and I still don't even get it." The library echoed with growing tension.

"Chill out, don't be such a brat because you can't rag on anyone for being dumber than you this time."

"Fuck off, Marceline."

They cut off studying together. It just wasn't working out.

They dormed in the same building, and coincidentally had friends in common. They both always sighed exasperatedly when the other was invited to group activities, avoiding eye-contact and throwing back-handed comments made for uncomfortable outings sometimes, but once in a while, they would strike a good note and peace would resonate in the group.

"What was up with that?" Bonnibel's roommate Lady questioned after a night at the movies, which included Marceline and the other boys. She and Marceline had agreed on what film to watch, and proceeded to nerd out completely on their Sci-Fi fandoms, favorite actors, Japanese horror films and the like. The two seemed like they were off on a completely separate date after that, sitting beside each other voluntarily and commenting on the movie the whole time, almost frame by frame. Marceline showed off her prized Tie-Fighter Squadron Star Wars patch on her denim jacket, and Bonnibel consciously avoided criticizing the stitching, to keep from ruining the nice relation.

"What do you mean?"

"You were so buddy-buddy. Usually you're spitting and scratching at each other." Bonnibel's roommate, Lady, was suspicious.

"Oh," she looked away and thought. "I just never met another person with Empire paraphernalia."

"You were like, sitting in her lap the whole time, jeez."

She spent the rest of that night, thinking of what Japanese horror film remake to watch with Marceline in the future, but at that time, she replied with, "I don't know, it was just exciting."

Hanging out more often seemed like it happened on its own. It was effortless and unplanned. Marceline found herself waiting outside the lab for Bonnibel to get out so they could get dinner, and Bonnibel found herself waiting up for the phone calls she'd get from the other girl before bed whenever they went back home. Conversations ranged from their favorite Power Rangers to their first boyfriends. They'd laugh at each other; at Bonnibel's nerdy reading glasses or at Marceline's really regrettable tattoos. The arguments would still happen; the stubbornness always found a way to ruin a good evening. A fight over which dorm they'd both sleep over, which restaurant to eat at or what music to play in the car. It never kept them apart for too long. Bonnibel completely bitched out about her coming to class really high (which seemed more hilarious than enraging), but Marcy still came to pick her up for dinner at the dining hall.

Bonnibel opened up after a knock. "What do you want?"

"Let's go eat."

"I don't wanna go with a druggie like you." She slowly tried swinging the door closed, but a palm against it interrupted her.

"Can you stop being such a judgy prude bitch and hurry up?"

She glared back at her for a second ("Kiss and make up!" Lady called from the background with a cackle), and gave in. "Just give me a second."

The walk was a little more quiet, which was nice for cool, frozen Winter air. The misty weather gave a nice atmosphere as it seemed like the clouds were crawling over the hills. Colors blended in beautiful hues of white in the setting sunlight as Bonnibel hit her spiteful face under her scarf. She tried very hard not to appreciate the time together, but failed. She looked up at the other girl, over her cloth, brow clenched regretfully. Marceline continued looking ahead, crunching ice under her boots.

"Marcy," she cooed softly.

"Aw, don't give me that. Marcy..." she replied, taking the pet name onto her tongue, feeling it out.

Bonnibel snuck her hand under the girl's pocketed arm, linking them together, still looking up at Marceline. "I'm going home this weekend again."

"That's fine." She kept looking forward, unrelenting to the apologetic gestures. "I have to practice for our show next weekend anyway." It was evil. It wasn't nice, but Marcecline wanted this vulnerable Bonnibel to suffer just a little bit longer. After all their arguments, it seemed like she was always in the wrong. It was a good change and she hated being the only one to lose every single time.

Her frown deepened. "Will you call?"

That voice, ugh, it was destroying her resolve. She couldn't give up so easily! Not yet. But that voice made her want to do anything that Bonnibel said.

"I, uh, I don't know if I'll have time."

She cursed herself inwardly; Bonnibel wasn't stupid. She was far from it, and Marceline knew she sensed the shake in her voice and her impending submission.

"Can I come?" Bonnibel squeezed her arm.

"Huh?" Marceline finally looked down at her. Bad move, she made the eye-contact with the pleading stare.

"To your show?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah, I mean- If you want to. Sure. Well, like, it's up to you y'know." Fuck. She quickly looked away.

"Marceline?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you call me?"

"Yeah."

The weekend came and rehearsal was as frustrating as usual. They practiced all day, but it was hard to get everything just right. As a Freshman, it was important to keep up the chops. The bandmates didn't go to the school, but they knew the stress just as well. They were coming to the conclusion of practice when Marceline remembered that Bonnibel went home without saying goodbye, and it was very inconsiderate of her to do. I mean, it's not that difficult of a thing to do, she pondered. What an inconsiderate jerk, just going off like that when I-

"Something bothering you, kid?" one of the members inquired, but she brushed it off.

There was homework to be done over the weekend too, laundry, tuition that needed to be payed. Midterms were coming up fast. All of these things were echoing through her mind as she stomped back to her dorm. Remembering the phone call she owed Bonnie  
somehow was elating. Her spirits picked up a slight bit.

"Hey."

"Hey," replied the groggy voice. It was adorable, the slightly raised pitch sleepiness gave it. "You're home late."

"Yeah, we were practicing all day. Rough."

She heard the shifting of sheets, maybe in an effort to get comfortable or wake up, maybe. "Any good yet?"

"Ugh, I hope so. How is it back home?"

A grunt and a cough, "Annoying. Boring." The voice was still high and small, so relaxing and comfortable.

"Wish you were back here, huh?" Marceline layed in bed, cuddling the pillows tightly.

A bit of silence. Static hissed a little, with a whisper like waves.

"Bonnie?" She suspected the girl fell asleep, and as her heart quivered a bit, "You coulda at least said bye before leaving if you..."

"Yeah, I do." a sigh came in response. The quivering stopped. "I miss you."

A bloom of heat spread in Marceline's belly. Be cool, don't make it weird. She clutched the pillow tighter.

"I miss you too," she breathed.

"Oh yeah?" A giggle. "Miss getting yelled at?"

"After a while without it, it's almost lonely," Marceline laughed.

"I agree."

"C'mere then."

"Maybe I will."

Marceline fell asleep at night, holding the sheets tightly and dreaming of someone being in its place.

The house was completely packed with an audience. There were several crowds of lounging people, smoking outside, drinking in the kitchen. Lines for the bathroom went all the way outside, so people just peed in the yard. The unkempt lawn gave the rugged feel of an underground basement show, very appealing to the college crowds. The exciting tension hung around the room as the first band played, vibrating the house to its core. Casually, students fashioned in post-modern homeless clothes bong-ripped and made out as the noise banged on and on, dissipating into the night air. Marceline could have been a bit happier, but Bonnibel was nowhere to be found. Her bandmates were on the lookout as well, per instruction, but no luck.

She would come, for sure, she thought.

Bonnibel slept over four nights that week, for some reason. Just like how they hung out, it just seemed to happen all on its own, naturally. Some food, films, giggling and gossiping, then sleep. The other girl had earlier classes sometimes, and when she left in the morning there would always be a "Bye, Marcy" or a "Come pick me up, okay?", and a squeeze goodbye. Marceline could only reciprocate with a half-hearted sleepy grunt.

At night, the same voice in Marceline's head would say, 'Don't make it weird, be cool' but she didn't know why it would always say that. Sometimes the room would be a murky dark, interrupted by slivers and streams of chalky moonlight. The dusty light was so calm, as they faced each other, laying on their shoulders. It was supposed to stay cool and not weird, but fuck, the bed felt so throbby and hot that it was difficult to breathe without making so much noise. It was hard to not notice her parted lips, panting a little and dilated pupils sunken in the glitter of light. It felt like a spell that would shatter at a bad flick of the wrist or misplaced step. There were so many instincts begging to guide her, but fear made her shudder as a cloud of Bonnibel's vanilla scent wafted over; poisonous pheromones that threatened to break everything Marceline thought she knew about herself and everything else. She thought of all the bottles she opened and snow she shoveled in Bonnie's presence to impress her.

"Nothing to say?" Marceline challenged, noting the girl's nervousness.

Bonnie furrowed her brow and turned over, facing the wall. "Shut up," she gave with a shakey voice. With that, Marceline laughed and slipped close to her, holding Bonnibel's back close with an arm under the girl's neck. The rest of the night was filled with sleep and smokey vanilla scent.

Thinking about that night, Marceline chugged another beer. Her bandmates warned her not to get too trashed, but she insisted that it would help the performance.

By the end of the night, the whole house was rioting. Everyone was strung out on drugs and drinking, bottles were smashed, instruments destroyed, windows broken. Fights were broken up, furniture totalled, stains were on everything. Vomit pooled in several corners and soiled the bathroom; the place made for a complete mess. However, the performances were great, well-received and Marceline could not have asked for more. Especially when she stepped off-stage, past the brawling crowd to meet Bonnibel's embrace.

She crushed her into a tight, sweaty hug, smelling strongly of gross beer. Excitedly and affectionately, she peppered her throat with kisses, "You were amazing! Did you see me? I punched a guy!" Bonnibel muttered wetly against her jaw.

Marceline almost froze up at the gesture, but held her by the shoulders at arms-length. "How much did you drink?"

"I'unno," she giggled, throwing her arms around Marceline's neck, "A lot? Shhh, don't tell Marcy!"

"Bonnie!" The front of her shirt seemed to be damp with spilled beer. Marceline led her upstairs by the hand to find a change of clothes. "Ugh, why'd you get this plastered..."

In the bathroom, Marceline gathered the flannel she wore to the party and tried to prompt drunk Bonnibel to change.

"I'un wanna!"

"C'mon kid, that's so gross, you're all slimey and sticky."

"Undress me," Bonnie challenged, childishly. She had her arms crossed and a pout, but Marceline refused to lose. She stepped forward and held the girl by the waist, slipping under the wet cloth and trailing up her back. Bonnibel shut her eyes at the sensation, raising her arms in a stretch of the torso. Marceline was distracted by a beautifully revealed yet damp chest and ribcage. She was supported by a pink lace bra that sported droplets of liquid slithering from her cleavage. She tried to hide her stare but it was caught. "Anything interesting?" her coy voice teased. Her usually meek yet patronizing eyes never sported such a smoldering look. She stepped forward, slipping her arms over Marceline's shoulders playfully, bringing their noses close, breath mingling together.

"Doesn't it," Bonnie panted into their space, but broke off as her ribcage heaved with each breath. "Feel good?"

Marceline was shocked and statued in place as her brain melted and froze, surrounded by the scent of lemons and wet towels soaked with beer. Her palms were unconsciously leaning on the girl's lower back.

"Don't you like it? The way that feels?"

She couldn't respond, even as Bonnie traced her tongue over her bottom lip and down to her jaw, nipping gently while grinding her bare body against Marcy's slowly.

"Do you notice it too?"

Bonnie's teeth finally made it to her ear, where she hotly whispered through nibbles,

"Can't you tell how I want you?"

It complicated everything.

Suddenly, everything fell out. No one could figure out why. Both of them gave up on contacting the other. After the hookup, Marceline helped her friend back to her dorm with a gentle, loving kiss goodnight as she tucked her in. But after leaving, nothing made sense anymore. Naturally, that made things resort to the only way they knew; mutual distain and arguing. The weeks went on like this:

"What even happened to you two?" Lady questioned during the most tense outing of all. "It's even worse than it used to be."

They both scoffed, facing opposite walls. The other friends, Finn and Jake stared on in fear. They hated being caught in the crossfire; Lady was the only one ever brave enough to point out the elephant in the room.

It was so lonely for the both of them; they missed the phone calls and the making up part of arguing. It was fear that kept them apart for the weeks after the kiss. The fear of what would happen or what wouldn't happen. The fear that it would work or it wouldn't.

Marceline got up with another huff, not making any eye-contact with anyone. "I'm out of here."

"Wait! Wait!" Lady got up to stop her. "Don't you know what Friday is?"

She blinked in response.

"Valentine's day."

"So what?!"

Lady palmed her forehead. "We were, just like, thinking of hanging out, and drinking and stuff." Finn scratched his neck awkwardly and Jake coughed a little. "If you wanted to come. You know, friends singles night?"

Bonnibel budged in, "She'll just be grumpy the whole time anyway."

At that comment, Marceline spat, "I'll be there."

In Marceline's dorm room that night, the awful hatred tension seemed to melt away with each drink. Things get hazy after forgetting how many beers you've had. After several shitty drinking games and card games, they laughed and joked loudly, guffawing onto the ground and occasionally hitting each other. Bonnibel nor Marceline threw any tantrums or biting comments at the other, and it felt nice. Several competitive arm wrestles transpired and tickling matches, but after it died down, Lady suggested an activity,

"Let's play Never Have I Ever."

"What game is that?" Finn asked excitedly. "I always win this game."

"You cant win, dummy," Jake cut in, "and you just said you don't know what game this is."

"I'll win! For sure!"

"Alright, alright," Lady chilled the bickering. "This is how you play: we go around in a circle saying things that we've never done, and if someone has done it, they have to drink."

"Awesome!" Finn threw a fist in the air. "Me first!"

A sigh. "Okay, Finn."

"Alright, alright, alright," he slurred. "Okay. Okay, let me think."

"You suck," Jake huffed.

"Dude, shut up! Never have I ever owned a dog!"

Several of them drank, including Finn.

"You can't drink! You can't say something you've done! Oh my god, you're the worst," Lady breathed into her bottle. "My turn."

She caught the two other girls glancing at each other, not recognizing the looks in their eyes. Was it confusion? Pure hate? Longing? Suspicious, Lady thought of her question. Eyeing them with a cautious glare over her glass, Lady went.

"Never have I ever..." The two other girls stayed preoccupied, staring at each other with Jake and Finn seperating them, not paying attention until, "...been with a girl."

The two seized up, and quickly looked away from each other. Neither of them moved, until Marceline looked at the ceiling and took a long drink. Upon seeing that, Bonnibel raised her glass to her lips as Finn and Jake stared in awe.

"Whaaat?!" Jake exclaimed. "Are you serious? I'd expect it from Marcy, but wow, more adventurous than we thought, Princess?"

It seemed that Jake still wasn't making the connection, but Lady was smart enough to know how to use drinking games to pry out truth. Bonnibel blushed, and looked to the floor.

"It's nothing to be ashamed about, loser. Don't look too embarrassed," Marceline muttered, absently picking torn seams on her pants.

"I'm not ashamed, doofus!" Bonnie exclaimed.

"'Ey, 'ey!" Lady raised her palms, and was confident that the group was drunk enough to follow her lead. "Chill out, it's my turn again."

Finn piped up, "But you just went!"

"No I didn't." Marceline and Bonnie were fuming with embarrassment, not able to meet the eyes of anyone else. Lady smirked, knowingly as Bonnibel looked to her, begging her not to delve further into the matter. "Never have I ever been with a girl in this room."

Ultimate silence transpired. Finn drunkenly noticed the change in their faces, and did a double-take. "What was the question?" Bonnibel confidently chugged the rest of her beer, and Marcy followed suit, almost competing in coming out to the world about their experience.

Jake's jaw dropped while Lady burst into a fit of giggles, almost tipping over her bottle.

"But I-! I mean I thought you guys, like-" Jake stuttered as Lady practically rolled into his lap in laughter. "I thought you hated each other!"

"We do!" they replied in unison.

Finn kept glancing around the room, lost. "What happened guys? What was the question, c'mon tell me!"

Lady's evilness led her to making this the fun of the party. Her giggles died down while Jake still gaped, conspicuously. Finn gave up and resorted to simply leaning against the bed frame.

"It was-! It was an accident. A mistake," Bonnibel fessed up. It stung Marceline terribly to hear that explanation. Especially because Bonnie expected her to agree with that statement. But when Bonnie looked to her for support, she gave her a look, and Bonnibel instantly felt like the biggest jerk on the planet.

A mistake? Was that all Bonnibel thought of it? Marceline pondered as she looked down the opening of her bottle. It wasn't even her idea! How could she blame it on it being an accident! But the worst feeling was the thought of being a memory that Bonnie regretted; a bad experience that should be forgotten. She bit the mouth of the bottle in thought. Bonnie looked longingly at the gesture, regretting her painful words and wishing those lips would trace and lick and lap her openi-

"Ugh, not this weird feeling again," Lady groaned. "Let's play something else."

Finn perked up, straightening up from the bed. "Yes! What game?"

"Truth or Dare."

"Deal! Me first!"

"Truth or dare, Finn?"

"Dare! For sure!"

"Hmm," she tapped her chin lightly as she leaned against Jake's shoulder. "Go get a pile of snow, but you can only carry it with the inside of your underwear."

He raced out the door, not preparing himself with a jacket or shoes.

"Poor kid," Jake looked on at the closing door.

"Alright, next," Lady pointed at Marceline and pulled her out of the angsty reverie. "You."

"Uh, dare, I guess."

Jake cut in; "Make out with Princess' bellybutton!"

Lady cackled with him as Bonnie straightened up, arousing Marceline slightly with her arched-back posture. She was hesitating, so Marcy took the lead, crawling across the floor towards her, determined. Meeting her smoldering eyes, feelings tightened between her legs. Lady and Jake didn't seem to notice the romantic way Bonnibel accepted Marceline with a stroke of the cheek, because they ruined the moment with,

"Oh, and you gotta pull up her shirt with your teeth!"

Obliging, Bonnibel gently settled on her back, underneath the other crawling girl. Coming up between her legs, Marceline maintained eye-contact as she approached  
her belt. Dipping her head lower, she caught the hem between her teeth and slithered up Bonnie's body with a painfully slow grind. I'll show you what's an accident, she thought. Do you want to see an accident? She pulled the shirt all the way up to under her breasts before Bonnie gasped in protest, but resumed sighing when Marceline slipped back down to nip and suck her lower abdomen. Squirming under the hot, wet touch, she felt the deep pang of arousal slide down inside her chest to her moistening loins. The intimate scrape of teeth trailing in the direction of her center made her forget that they were being watched.

Jake coughed audibly, breaking the spell. "Alright, Romeo save it for next game," Lady interrupted, boredly. The two pulled apart, shocked at their uncouth behavior. "Marcy, why don't you escort Princess back to our room, huh? She seems too drunk to remember where it is." She dragged her nails up Jake's thigh and he reacted. Marceline had momentary thoughts of those two in her bed, but shook them out as Bonnie crawled to her feet and hastily towards the door. She got up and followed.

The elevator ride was awkward. The two were joined by another drunk couple, clearly a few steps a way from blacking out. Marceline watched them lean on each  
other for support while she felt someone tracing her hands, between her fingers and over the knuckles. One of the inebriated couple turned over and noticed  
the small efforts of affection Bonnibel was providing, and scoffed loudly.

"'ucking lesbos, man," he hiccupped. "'ou'd have 'ore fun sucking my-"

Even as the man's friend scolded him for being so crass, a single swing to the left eye coupled with an insane blood-alcohol ratio knocked him out cold before  
Marceline and Bonnibel stepped out of the elevator and onto their floor. The sounds of the man's acquaintance's frustration came from the closing elevator door as Bonnibel blew at her own knuckles. "Ow, ow," she muttered, leading Marceline to her door.

"Can you stop punching people in the face constantly?" Marceline scolded as they entered the dorm. "Like, really, you're gonna lose your princess-like reputa-"

"Fuck it," the Princess slurred, kicking her shoes and sweater to a random corner as she trailed her pants across the floor. She was shedding her clothes at an exponential pace as she made for a drawer. Marceline was entranced as she bent over for a bottom drawer, displaying a lacey pink-clad backside. "Fuck everything, whatever."

Things were boiling again. "Like you have the right to complain."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" It felt like Marceline was having this back-and-forth with only a butt; a very nice one, but still provoking.

"I wish you told me you had such a shitty time fucking me before you went on telling all our friends."

"It wasn't like that. I didn't say it like that-"

"You really did. It's not like it was my idea to do it!"

When Bonnibel got up and turned to face her, Marceline noticed that the girl was only dressed in the matching pink lace underwear, coupled with her flannel that was provided to the Princess at the party. She instantly recalled the feelings of that night; the lack of ill-intention. When stuff made sense. The cold tile of a bathroom floor cooling boiling sweat, dripping pollen. The scent of heat itself permeating the air, but the beautiful squeezed face of a climaxing Bonnibel.

"It was all my idea? Is that all you felt about it?"

Obviously it didn't make sense to say weird dumb stuff about missing being together. About missing talking on the phone forever, sharing desserts in the dining hall, fighting over what desserts to buy, fighting over where to sit, fighting over who's bed to cuddle in. It wouldn't be right to just come out with it. They hated each other, and it was an undeniable, irrevocable truth that they shared like a bitter marriage. No one could piss either of them off quite like the other, and that was a beautiful thing. They couldn't lose it. Marceline wouldn't know what she'd have if she lost that.

"If that's all you felt about it," she responded, melting at the sight of the naked girl, barely cloaked in her clothes, the background of winter moonlight. The girl approached until she was close, then lead Marceline backwards, never breaking eye contact. She sat her in the only chair in the cell of a dorm room.

"Do you miss me?"

"Yeah."

"Then why did you leave me?"

"I didn't! You never came to me either!"

"Think about me a lot?"

The snow fell lightly in the night. Silently. Thoughts of blushing flesh flashed through her mind. Memories of being in lecture and daydreaming came up. Vicious intentions of destroying all of Bonnie's chances at a Valentine this year were recalled. The way she had to work up so much nerve to face the singles date party. Then she realized how trapped she was, now that Lady and Jake we're soiling her bed downstairs in her dorm. She was pinned, as Bonnibel straddled her lap and was seated quite comfortably, securing herself with arms sliding over Marceline's shoulders.

"Yeah."

Bonnie stared deeply, shifting her hands to palm the girl's face. "What do you think I'm feeling?"

Marceline shrugged, looking deeply, enjoying the warmth, the comfort of a familiar vanilla surrounding her. "Comfortable."

Bonnie's posture straightened out, gliding her own fingertips from her jaw, down her sculpted throat sensually. "Want to know what I really think of Marceline Abadeer?"

She gulped, watching intently. Her palms finally rested cautiously on the other girl's hips, but dared not advance. Even as Bonnibel's eyes fluttered closed gently as she reached down for a handful of the flannel, Marcy looked. She pulled the shirt up to her nose and inhaled smoothly, letting the other hand trail down from her collarbone, past her breast and to her newly acquired hickeys under the belly button. "I lay in bed, at night, wondering what she's doing."

Marceline's eyes widened.

"...If she's thinking of me, too."

She slipped a hand into her lace panties, fumbling softly. Marceline felt the friction of the knuckles against her abdomen. Time, thoughts, snow, it all stopped.

"...When she's gonna come over next."

Marceline kept her eyes in Bonnie's face, but felt the oscillations occurring in her underwear. The swirling motions were moistening their contact. The shuffle of cloth accompanied the lewd actions. She brought her lips close to the girl's ear and broke out small, choked pants as she fondled her own sweet core.

"And, ungh, what she'd do to me if," another hot breath escaped, "she were in this bed with me."

Bonnie shifted her close face to Marcy's parted lips and kissed deeply, as she swept her own fingers back and forth over the sensitive parts. Marceline's eyes still were wide, and drank in the image of falling snow in the background of the girl in her lap stroking herself deeply. Deep strokes. Wet noises lapped lightly, tracing of lips and tongue. A sweet dance, warm embrace. No lines separating the bodies. Small gasps were blown into Marceline's mouth as Bonnibel continued reenacting her nights with thoughts of her. Beautiful chants of her name went on, like an incantation.

Her wrist was taken from the warm hip by damp fingertips, and was dragged to the low apex. Light, chimey voice crackled in the dark room as a spine arched into Marcy's chest. Breathing deeply as skin stretched tautly over defined ribs. Feeling the scalding, loving core that begged for her touch made her mind completely filled with Bonnie, occupied only with love and adoration. The motions trailed on into the rest of the night, as the snow fell around their world peacefully. For the first time, being and laying together made sense. They would deal with the arguments to come in the morning, but for the nights, nothing else could get between them.

As Lady and Jake hijacked Marceline's room, she quietly enjoyed the peace and privacy of a simple Valentine's Day.

/

This is late, but it was per request, and was really long? I'm sorry

This was not a romantic valentines fic, maybe I'll succeed next year...

:-( hahahahaha. Thanks YuzuYuri19! I'll try and be better next time

pls prompt me mayb ill do it


	2. Chapter 2

Home was boring. Annoying. She spent her days reading, wandering the house, barefoot. Barefoot and bored. Her parents' house was not an extreme distance away, so it was convenient to get away. But the suburbs are always the same as you leave them. The novelty a hometown retains in high school is not forever. Bonnibel sat, curled in the living room couch watching  
some history documentary on submarines, whilst chewing on a straw. The seconds seemed to crawl by.

"You lost over there, buddy?"

The voice brought her back to an even duller reality. She looked over at Guy as he threw an arm over the length of the couch. It was bad to use boys as mediocre sources of stimulus, she thought.  
Even if they were abysmally sub-par. He scooted closer, holding one of the knees against Bonnie's chest. "School must be stressin' you insanely."

The truth was that it really wasn't. Challenges needed to be very challenging to challenge her. Alliterations were always a strong suit, she smirked. Guy was a childhood friend; a high school sweetheart that everyone thought was perfect for her. Of course, he was an integral part of her life. You know, the back-up prom date when your mom doesn't let you stay home kinda guy. You try and 'make it' just like everyone is supposed to the night of prom, but it falls awkwardly flat, and you let him lie about it to his friends? That type.

He was always the one catching up to her, trying to recite her a romantic poem for her birthday before she'd close her locker and go to class. The one that spent nights listening to her talk about constellations at night by a telescope, and he'd try really hard to sound like he appreciated it just as much. Bonnibel loved that about him. After graduation, she thought they'd get married. That's what people do around here, she considered. Guy always third-bases first, he's average in the face and her parents love him. But he didn't really end up doing much after school ended. Guy didn't apply to any schools, and worked at some lame arcaded on the main street of town, three days a week. They had a simple, uncomplicated life together that would go by unscathed through the years, most likely. Bonnibel just supposed it would fall into place that way someday.

He tried to nudge her into some type of legitimate response, but Bonnibel got up and turned off the television.

"I'm really tired, Guy," she sighed. He straightened up obediently.

"Oh, sure! Alright, I'll let you rest." He pecked a light kiss on her forehead. "Want to have dinner together tonight? I'm sure my mom would love to see you."

"Aw, that's sweet, but I think my parents are gonna, like, wanna hang out or something." She lied. But that was the beauty of it. She could take him or leave him as she pleased, and he couldn't tell the difference.

Her mom ended up making her invite him over for dinner, where they discussed a possibility in Guy's promotion at Night-O-Sphere. Maybe more hours, full-time. Bonnibel absently scraped at her plate while her dad talked to him about the dumb draft. She recapped her semester sparingly, not very much interested in conversation. Bonnie had searing visions into the future; twenty years of Guy's witlessness. Bearing his children, driving them to soccer practice. She eyed the boy's prematurely receeding hairline and cringed at the thought of desperate, pathetic sex with him at 50 years old. She pushed her plate away.

They retired to their rooms, and Guy accompanied her upstairs. The pink-wallpapered room captured Bonnie's pre-mature girlishness along with countless science fair trophies, sashes, badges and certificates. There was a framed photo of her and guy from sometime in 9th grade, her with braces and a ponytail holding up a prized bass that they caught together once.

"I missed you," Guy whispered as he snaked his arms around her hips, kissing her face.

"Not now, I don't feel like it." Bonnibel rest a palm against his chest until he fell away.

"What's with you? You've been like, a total snob since you started stupid school."

"I told you, Guy, things are probably gonna be different. We're gonna become different. It's just not gonna be the same."

"Bullshit," he scoffed, capturing her hand. "We're meant to do this thing together, man. We all know it."

She grew nauseous.

"When you graduate, my parents said they'd move to Florida so we'd have the house," Guy continued.

Bonnie snatched her hand away and sent him home, stomaching a kiss goodbye. There was nothing wrong with him. He had no bad intentions. In fact, she felt a bit honored that he was so quick to dedicate the rest of his ephemeral life to her and their suburban life cycle. She remembered nostalgically the way that his salty skin smelled after going fishing.

She fell asleep until she was woken by a pleasant surprise. Perking up as best she could, Bonnibel accepted the phone call.

"Hey."

"Hey," Bonnibel rubbed her eyes."You're home late."

"Yeah, we were practicing all day. Rough."

The sound of Marceline's gruff frustrated voice was adorably comforting. "Any good yet?"

"Ugh, I hope so. How is it back home?"

The memory of Guy spoiled a bit of the feeling. "Annoying. Boring."

"Wish you were back here, huh? ...You coulda at least said bye before leaving if  
you..." Marceline's resentment over a lack of good parting was endearing.

"Yeah, I do." It was the truth. School was the only place where reading, math and writing had everything make sense. A good escape. But it was also where her biggest problems only consisted of homework to do, papers to write and ways to make up with Marceline. Distractions that elicited passion she never knew. It couldn't be replaced. But it wasn't just about the hate they shared; it was the good, quiet time they had too. While watching her study so hard, Marcy would bring her snacks or brush her hair out of her face. It made her realize for some reason that Guy couldn't get Bonnie  
to get angry about anything. It was because he couldn't make her care, no matter how hard he tried. It made Bonnie so strangely romantic all of a sudden. "I miss you."

There was a slight pause. Fuck, I made it weird, she thought. Damn it. Ugh. Whatever.

"I miss you too," Marceline gave back.

"Oh yeah?" Bonnie giggled and cracked a smirk. "Miss getting yelled at?"

"After a while without it, it's almost lonely," a laugh.

"I agree."

"C'mere then."

"Maybe I will."

* * *

The night of Valentine's Day was a bit of a blur. They resented the daylight of the morning, sleepy and slightly hungover. Marceline lay spread out over most of the bed, snoring grossly, while Bonnie stayed tucked in her side, open palm resting on the girl's bare belly. She snapped awake suddenly, realizing it was daytime, and stretched over Marceline's sprawling form to her cell phone. Bonnibel gasped, noticing she'd forgotten to set an alarm to make it to an important OL meeting at the other side of campus.

"Fuck!" she sat up in shock, not realizing her seated place on Marcy's lap until the other girl also regained consciousness.

"Hey, not really the polite way to wake someone..." she said, rubbing her eyes, taking in the image of a panicked, naked Bonnibel straddling her hips. The girl's chest was heaving slightly, but still sported the blooms of bites, hickeys and bruises from the night. A light blush formed on her supple, pink skin at the sight of Marceline's staring as she crushed the pervert's face with a pillow. "What!"

"Don't look!" Bonnie growled. "I'm gonna be so late for the Orientation Leader meeting! Because of _you_!" She pushed down harder on the pillow pressing on Marceline's face.

She swatted the pillow away. "Step off, loser! This was your idea anyway," Marceline spat, but noticing Bonnibel's pout and worry, she gave in. "I'll give you a ride, just quit it with the whining. And suffocation." Then, a smirk and a wink. "But what do I get?"

Bonnie attacked her with the pillow again, "Your life, you weirdo!"

"Alright, alright!" Marceline chuckled.

The ride was pleasant, and not awkward. It was like the night had given them a chance to vent all tension and frustration that went on. It was so efficient, they both forgot the weeks of ignoring each other and yelling and being weird. They negotiated that the ride would play Marceline's playlist this time, and Bonnie's next time if she bought her ice cream. They talked about how gross it was that Lady and Jake probably fornicated all up in Marcy's bedspace, and how it was Bonnie's job to disinfect it. Spring was clearing up all the frost, and the air was full and blooming.

Marceline tapped her foot to the beat of her rock 'n roll CD. "Who wants to become an OL anyway? You really wanna mess with dumb freshmen all summer?"

"Marcy, _we're_ dumb freshmen," Bonnibel sighed as she pulled up to the parking lot of Office of Student Affairs. Marceline pulled closely to the building and slowed to a stop. "Thank you very much. You're _such_ a gentleman the morning after!" she said, feigning surprise.

"Shaddap, you." Marceline leaned back into the seat with a groan, headache growing. "Again, what is my reward?"

Bonnibel opened the passenger side door. Before leaving, she leaned over and caught Marceline's face in her palm, pulling her into a soft, grateful, affectionate kiss. Slighting back, "I'll let you come pick me up." Marceline smirked, eyes still on her lips. She couldn't help pressing their kiss together again, before moving out of the car indefinitely.

As Bonnibel walked towards the building, Marceline shouted through the open passenger's side window. "I'll think about it!"

* * *

AN: this was way shorter. I'm sorry

trying to make a multi-chapter fic for the first time, please be gentle

I think i know what will happen in the near future for our gang, but pls let me know if you wanna see somethin

in particular.

thank

-antierotic


	3. Chapter 3

When Bonnibel was young, she was impressed with the stereotypical fantasy of every girl's Prince Charming. As a little girl, she had the natural tendency to go out on the trail alone, finding her own scientific specimen. She was the one who would be very proud to climb a tree all on her own, or not cry when she fell from it. When she got a bit older, she noticed the girls around her leaving those tasks for the boys who called them beautiful and gave them flowers. At first, in her awkward middle school glasses-and-braces combination, she truly believed no prince would ever come along and solve the equations for her; no boy would be interested in investing the time into some lanky, skinny nerd girl. So she gave up on that idea, and didn't go to the mall after school. Bonnibel didn't learn how to use makeup, or drink beer the way cool girls did. It made for a lonely life.

A prince is someone who loves and worships a pretty princess. The kind that wears dresses and waits for people to open doors for them. But her skirts were stained with pond water from collecting algae, or maybe her outfit was a Sailor Moon cosplay outfit. Either way, it wouldn't work out.

Bonnie found out a few years later that these things weren't the issue.

Guy came into her life, willing and begging.

He bought her dinner, flowers and candy on her birthdays. He carried her countless textbooks and thought Sailor Moon was 'really cool'. "Their outfits are so like, hot, y'know?" What more could you ask for? No one ever came into her life with that kind of effort. The kind that made him follow her to the swamps to "collect gross slimey shit".

"You're so lucky, Bonnie," her dad said one day while making a sandwich. "That a nice kid like Guy will watch you do weird shit all the time."

His convenience stretched on to more "adult things". Her first time being sexy with someone was just part curiosity, part boredom.

"You're so beautiful," he panted, voice cracking. His breaths were labored like a dog in heat, and he came, making a mess. There were no fireworks like in the movies. She didn't feel beautiful. It was sticky and hot. Guy would ask later how it was, and she'd respond with "Oh, it was… something." He'd nod, proudly, and the conversation would move on. Sometimes she could finish, but it wasn't worth all that exhausting effort; especially when she could finish herself off quicker and better anyway.

To her (very few) girlfriends, she'd ask how it was really supposed to go. To her disappointment, they'd reply with, "Yeah, the first time usually sucks". But there was very few 'next-times' with Guy, and they seemed to pan out pretty similarly. Bonnibel chalked it up to him having little experience.

But when she met Marceline, the fireworks went off like explosions. The heat and fire of their arguments would have the warmth settle in her belly and loins. There was something about that girl that Prince Charmings didn't have that could really get her on… On something. She didn't know yet. She loved the special attention she got from such a nonchalant rocker: the way that she could nag her about her unconventional life choices, and Marceline would sigh in frustration. Most of all, she loved the way that Marceline thought she was the most annoying thing on the planet, but would still go out of her way to spend time together.

It all didn't make sense until one particular night over spring break; the floral breeze wafted into Bonnibel's bedroom through the floating pink curtains. The lamp in the corner illuminated the room dimly, casting soft shadows that contrasted against the pastel.

This was the room of her childhood; she lay in the bed in which she dreamt of a Prince Charming at ten years old, wondering what he would be like. It was the room where her shitty first time became an eternal part of her history that couldn't be taken back. It was where she promised to her tanks of algae that science would be the thing she married, because nothing else could ever be able to compare. But it was also where Bonnie spent her first time making love to Marceline, without alcohol, safely secured under the pale girl's body. She looked up to the smoldering topaz eyes above her and shuddered at all the memories and moments she wasted doing anything else with anyone else.

"So, what can I do for you, princess?" Marceline's sexy smug voice melted into the dim light like honey. Or like some sour, syrupy liquor. Whatever.

That was where it all came together; her scientific mind drew conclusions as she was pumped closer and closer to her peak. Guy, nor anyone else like him, could ever give her a life or experience outside of the same cycle she was in. He couldn't challenge her, or bring anything new to love and experience together. He wasn't brave or strong. He wasn't beautiful. Guy's poetry sucked. However, most importantly, she realized that Marceline was perfect because she was not Prince Charming. Marceline respected her for being able to open her own doors, but was still there to help her and struggle with her when things got hard. So when Bonnibel was crashing hard, mouth gaping as a shattering climax hit her, the realization of her true prince came over her as well. Looking at the white ceiling with her mind spinning violently, she felt the trail of soft kisses trail from her bare shoulder, to her throat, to her ear. Guy would never work; it's only Marceline. It'll only ever fucking be Marceline.

"Are you still with me?"

She wanted to ask her so many questions like, where were you at prom? Why didn't you stop me from losing my v-card to some dweeby weenie? Why didn't you tell me it didn't have to be that way? Without you, I could've gone my whole life without knowing there was another way! Her thoughts melted away when Marceline pulled away from her skin to go back to hovering above her. Bonnie looked into the girl's eyes to meet the surprisingly affectionate stare; it was full of reciprocation and adoration that was usually so rare between them. It made her heart sputter. She hoped, somehow through her own stare, that she could ask Marcy all these questions. It was like all of them were answered with that look.

Bonnibel threw her arms around the girl's neck, roughly pulling her down to her lips.

"It was that good, huh?"

"Mmm." An exhausted groan.

"Can I do it again?"

"Ugh, I'm _sore_, Marcy... Can I do it to you now?"

"I want to see you make that face again," she said determinedly. "I could watch you do that forever."

Forever, that word sounds good, Bonnie thought. She looked over at the overturned photo of her and Guy.

"Yeah, let's do it."

* * *

"Ugh, I _hate_ when your mouth tastes like cigarettes."

An incredulous laugh, "I haven't even smoked today, babe!"

She actually absolutely loved when Marceline called her that. All the more reason to set her off.

Bonnibel shrugged, shuffling her slippered feet back to the stove with her arms crossed. "You little, ash-coated chimney, you." She feigned a shudder while shifting the contents of the pan.

Marceline followed up closely, poking at the girl's side. "Maybe I won't let you kiss me anymore."

"Maybe then I'll let you starve."

"Okay, okay let's trade then."

"No deal," keeping her eyes on her work.

"C'mon, don't let me die like this!" Marceline pouted and trudged about exaggeratedly.

"Shush, you."

She snuck up behind the cooking lady, snaking herself around Bonnie's waist with a smooth voice. "Then I will have to eat _you."_

Bonnibel squirmed in the tight grip. "_Ugh, _you _painfully_ lame weirdo!" She was then dragged and tossed on the small bed in a fit of giggles.

"Your immortal soul is mine!" Marceline growled viciously before swiftly descending on the girl. "To corrupt your pure innocence with wanton and erotic desire!"

Which turned into her stopping her violent assault at the sight of Bonnie's captivating genuine smile. She dropped her bared claws to either side of her, dropping herself onto Bonnibel's body with a solid 'oof!'. Bonnibel agreed to come over and cook after the OL meeting, after having her dorm taken over by the makey-outty Lady and Jake.

"You're all huggy and cuddly when you're hungry," Bonnie commented, looking down at the girl on her chest, pushing the wild dark hair from her face.

"Pfft, pfft," Marceline cleared hair strands from her mouth. "I know, I'll crush you if you don't feed me, kid."

"You should come over for spring break." She kept running her hands through the girl's hair. "I'll feed you, I promise. Everyday, too."

Marceline rested her chin on Bonnie's chest with a pout. "Eh, I can't, the band is touring for a bit. Just the surrounding states, not too far... Aw!" Bonnibel giggled at her obvious disappointment and tried to console her with more petting.

"Aw, it's okay." She tried to mask her own disappointment.

"I was gonna ask you to come..." Marcy's brow tightened in a childishly grumpy expression, in reaction to her vulnerability.

"Come with you?" Bonnie smiled at the rare kind words. Sentiments like these were very few, between the persistent bickering and mutually spiteful ignoring. "Like, in your car? State to state?"

"Yeah. Too risky for you, Princess?"

"No," she shook her head. Even though it really was; explaining all that trouble to her parents would kinda work out, but Guy wouldn't let it. He'd insist on tagging along and driving to make sure she'd be okay. The thought of him made her heart quake a bit for some reason. Maybe in regret or disgust. "I just wouldn't wanna deal with my parents nagging. They hate rock n' roll."

Marceline rolled away, onto her own back. "Whatever."

Bonnibel followed, resting on the girl's chest and bringing their faces close with another giggle. "Isn't it enough to have me for the rest of the semester?"

She leaned up towards her, snaking and arm around her, "I couldn't want you," a tender kiss, "any less." Then another.

Their (somehow) heartwarming moment was the smell of the burning food and the moment-killing blare of the smoke detector.

* * *

However heartwarming the weeks were leading up to spring break, they were not enough to overcome the conflict of its first day.

Marceline was considerate enough (after enough nagging) to see Bonnibel off for the break. She was being picked up by her father, per usual. In the parking lot they played around, enjoying their few moments together before her departure. What she her parents did not tell her was that the family car was having some maintenance issues and was stuck in the shop for a while. Due to Guy's consideration, he was very willing to volunteer to make the drive, him being Prince Charming and all.

Bonnibel's face fell as she saw him pull up in the parking lot, cheeky-grinned and all. Marceline, expecting a middle-aged man and noticing the girl's extreme mood change, inquired about the identity of the driver. She didn't get a response.

Guy exited the car with his excited face, ready to load the luggage into the car for her and embrace his girlfriend. He'd never met any of Bonnie's friends before, and was happy to extend his handshake to Marceline.

"Guy, it's alright, I've got the luggage... What are you doing here?" She palmed her face, trying to interrupt his introduction to Marceline. Her heart was sinking by the second. She couldn't explain this; Guy had never come up in any conversation before.

"Your dad told me he couldn't get you. I told him it'd be no trouble, sweetheart!"

"'Sweetheart'..." Marceline echoed as she accepted his handshake with a troubled look. "Marceline. Bonnibel's... friend."

"Wow! Nice to meet you, I'm Guy, her boyfriend! Bonnie was almost out of a ride, no thanks to nasty potholes. I'm so sorry about his fender..."

"Guy, could you give us a second-" Bonnibel tried to edge in, but Marceline beat her to it.

"No way, it's totally cool," she half-spat. "You and Guy over here gotta hit the road, man."

"I'm glad you understand Marceline!" Guy conceded naively, as she stormed off. "Nice to meet you!"

He was at a loss when Bonnibel raced to catch up to the girl, but patiently waited in the car with a newspaper.

"Marcy, wait!" she panted as she caught up with her by the entrance of the dorms. It was a nice day outside; birds chirped, white clouds floated by.

Marceline whipped around, looking at her face on. "You don't have to explain, alright." It was a last-ditch attempt to save face. She felt so embarrassed and couldn't tell why. Was it because Guy was no where near as attractive as she was? Or that she couldn't believe she fooled herself into thinking she and Bonnie were ever a thing. "We're like, not even a thing."

Bonnibel was taken aback. "Not even a _thing?"_

"Nope," Marceline stepped past the open door and held up a peace sign. "Have a good break, wish me luck on tour, Bonnibel." It closed.

The entire car ride Bonnie was too distracted to even pretend to humor Guy's insipid banter about his stupid newspaper. She was too busy thinking about how all Prince Charmings are good for is fucking stuff up.

* * *

an:

sorry folks

i must break teenaged hearts to live

they suffer, but read because more sex

god bless

review


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes, life isn't good to you.

It's not fair. It just ain't right. But you get over it; move on, all of that bullshit. Plenty of other fish in the sea, or whatever.

This was how Marceline was rationalizing as she was fuming in the car. A bandmate, Keila, was the bravest for noting it outloud, but she was clenching her fists so tightly around the steering wheel, it looked unhealthy. It was the first night of break, and they were heading out further into the country to some other boonies college campus. It'd be that same old 'hit it before 10pm' routine like at all the lame venues, but they took what they could get. Still, her rage could not be disguised after what had transpired during the day. Even though maybe she should have given Bonnie a chance to explain, she thought, it doesn't matter, we weren't even anything.

"Champ, don't go swerving all of us off of the road," Keila commented. The other bandmates looked to each other in fear.

"It's not even a thing!" Marceline shot back, almost in a shout. The rest of the ride was silent.

The show went well. It was a good way to channel the frustration; they were well received and the 'open bar' afterward was extremely convenient. The night felt clear, and being in the middle of the sticks at night had a familiar dewy smell; it was romantic and nostalgic. The way that people laughed and danced like idiots under the moon, like for a few hours they all forgot their Chemistry homework was due, or the existentialism of mortality. That's what's good about rock 'n roll. You can be violent about your frustration, then get back on with life way easier.

The rock led to the bar and the bar led to banging. Marceline had experience with men, but always seemed to prefer pretty girls. It wasn't anything she ever thought about. It was what came naturally, and she never questioned that. One drink led to another, and the third led to one of the pretty residents of that certain hall, who was eyeing her all night long. A sweet little one with obnoxiously fashionable clothes and an obvious urge to gossip about a hookup in the morning. Marceline was drunk and vulnerable enough to oblige. The band was packing up in the morning, planning to sleep on some pull-outs in some frontman's dorm. She ended up spending the night curled around this girl.

She knew better than to use fucking to fix the feeling of emptiness. One would think sex would help, but in the end, you feel just how worthless the whole experience really is. Fashion girl was a C+ kisser, teeth scraping and clashing with hers. It was sloppy, but she managed an orgasm, which made the lip-bruising slightly worthwhile. But there ain't no fireworks in being with strangers; it's nothing like fucking someone you hate. And there was no one Marceline hated more at that moment than a certain someone.

The experience ended up being like many familiar ones. The 'wake-up-I-forgot-what-your-name-is' awkward thing. Marceline was planning on avoiding that confrontation at all costs with that girl. After they did it and fell asleep, she woke up again in the middle of the night and shuffled on her clothes quickly (and still a bit drunk) in the misty blue moonlight. There were no goodbyes or 'see you later's with these things. It felt lonely and disappointing for some reason; to see a beautiful girl that you feel nothing for. No glittering sensations besides the simple carnal orgasm, no intimate stroking. Just the escape into the night. Marceline's pondering was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone, which caused her to sprint out of the dorm room to keep the naked girl from waking up.

"What do you want?" she picked up with a hiss.

"I want to talk." The voice was strong and coherant, for someone awake at 4:30am.

"Well I'un wanna." Marceline tried to be forceful but her inebriation turned it into a slur.

A scoff, "Are you drunk?"

"Who cares if I am?"

"I do! I want you to remember what I have to say!" Of course Marceline would would remember. She would remember whether she wanted to or not.

"You don't have anything to say. You don't need to explain, I told you." But in fact, she really wanted her to explain. Still there was nothing Bonnibel could say to make sense of it and make everything right again. For some reason, there was a boy in the world who thought he was Bonnie's boyfriend, and for whatever reason, she let it happen and didn't tell her.

"Guy is not my boyfriend."

"He sounded like he was."

"Well he isn't," Bonnibel stated flatly. Her comebacks sounded well-planned, which was impressive, and hard for a drunk rockstar to fight. "He's a boy from my high school. We grew up together. It's complicated. Everyone thinks we're something but we aren't."

Marceline drowsily leaned against the wall, forehead pressed against it. "He drives you places for your parents. Do you do it?"

"We did it, but we don't _do it._"

That kind of made her stomach swell. The thought of someone reaching inside Bonnie like that. In a way that she never could. "We don't do it either, Bonnie." Marceline gave a sigh. It was a childish thing she was doing. Because she felt hurt, she wanted to turn away from this person forever, and pretend nothing ever happened. Unfortunately, things can't work that way.

"We don't?" It was a heart-breaking tone; she sounded so hurt from her statement, Marceline wanted to own up and take it back, but she was too afraid. She wanted Bonnibel to suffer just like she was. She wanted her to feel the same humiliation and confusion she was feeling. It was terrible, but it was the truth.

"We are not a thing!" Marceline angrily hung up, and instantly regretted what she'd done. She should have voiced how she really felt. She shouldn't have belittled their feelings or tried to run away. Someday she'd have to face it. As she walked outside, to sleep in her car for a few hours, Marceline stared at the phone, trying to imagine what the other girl was thinking.

As the dawn creeped through the windshield a few hours later, a hungover Marceline awoke in the backseat. As soon as she woke up, she'd remembered what she'd done. Her bandmates arrived, inquiring where she stayed the night, and she talked about her fling with the random girl.

"Yeah, break-ups are rough," Keila sighed, leaning into the passenger's seat.

"I did not break up with anyone," Marceline spat through clenched teeth.

"Got your heart broken?" The bandmates in the back scolded Keila for further provoking the frontwoman. "Hey, just don't kill the whole tour with your bad vibes, alright?"

The entered the next town about an hour later. Everyone was asleep as they drove past plains of grazing cows and farms. The entire time, Marceline was thinking about Bonnibel. The car reminded her of the girl; the cows even reminded her. She noticed that the town they were heading to was near that of the one Bonnie lived in. That fact was the last straw; she was going to settle this once and for all. She picked up the phone and rang up Lady, with the intent of getting her kind of revenge on Lady's roommate. She was gonna totally crush Bonnibel's spirit by getting her to fall completely and mind-blowingly in love with her. If that's a word. Whatever. And whatever the next step is, that'll come later, she thought.

* * *

The drive was bringing the pair closer and closer to the girl's house. Guy finally caught onto the inpenetrable silence, even after something like an hour had passed. He peeked over at the quiet girl, who was slumped against the passenger's door, folded into the angstiest ball he'd ever seen.

"Guy, we really need to talk."

He perked up nervously, "About what? You can talk to me about anything." He tried to mask his pensiveness with eagerness, but fell flat.

"You introduced yourself as my boyfriend."

"...Was that wrong?" They slowed to a stop outside her house.

Bonnie sighed, unfolding from her fetal position. "We aren't like that, Guy. I know you figured that much."

He devended himself with complete obliviousness. "How could you say that? That's not true. I love you so much, and you love me too! I went all this way to come bring you back!"

"It's just not like that anymore! You never asked me to be your girlfriend, and I would have never said yes anyway. I told you things would be different once I got out of here."

"So what, you're too good for this place now, huh? Too good to be my girlfriend?" Guy clenched his jaw as he punched against the steering wheel. "You never even told me you didn't want to be together anymore. Even if you say I never asked you to be my girlfriend, you still were, weren't you?"

Bonnibel pressed backwards into her seat. Even she could not deny her own fault. Guy didn't really ever mess up; his problem was that he was just himself, and that could never change. She never considered giving him the respect of telling him how she felt. Guilt welled up inside of her as she saw Guy's face fall as he stared past the windshield.

"Guy I-"

"Please, just get out."

"Just let me-"

"Get _out!_" He banged on the dashboard again. His eyes glistened and reddened, still glaring out of the windshield. There was no way an idiot like him would have figured it out on his own and Bonnibel knew it. She played him as well as she could, for the free rides and an escort that her parents approved of. They both knew it. But he also was right about her caring about her dear childhood friend. In love or not, Guy was always there for her. He always cared, for whatever reason. Bonnibel always silently appreciated it, expecting him to always be there. This wasn't right. Not at all.

She had no choice but to escape the vehicle and make her way inside, to suffer one of the loneliest nights of her life.

* * *

That night, she retraced the steps of all of her moves.

Where did it all fail? When did the good girl she thought she was become the antagonist in everyone's lives? Especially when they were the people she truly cared about.

She started with Guy. How was she supposed to know what they had wasn't normal? It felt like they had what was supposed to happen. They were a boy and a girl who hung out a lot, so Bonnibel thought they were supposed to have sex, and kiss. Her mom and dad were always happy to see the boy cutting their grass or picking up Bonnie for a trip to the movies. How was she supposed to know when to tell him to stop when she didn't even know it could? Now it was all fucked up.

And with Marceline; how was she ever supposed to know when things were real? When things were not just fucking-while-drunk-then-yelling? It went back and forth constantly, it felt like there was no way to tell. They never stopped being mean to each other, but she couldn't remember when they started being all sappy. Holding hands while grocery shopping, cuddling to sleep without having sex. But she fucked up here too; she knew exactly when she fell for that stupid jerk, she was just too proud yet ashamed to admit it. Bonnie didn't want to attest to any stupid feelings for said stupid jerk, so she swept everything under the metaphorical rug.

She thought about these things all night until the small hours. It was when when her heart was pulverized into dust while on the phone with a drunken Marceline; she knew she was getting what she deserved. Neither Marceline nor Guy deserved to be with a liar or cheater. Not even a stupid jerk deserves that. When she was angrily hung up on, Bonnibel resumed pacing back and forth in her pink pajamas, surrounded by her suffocatingly pink walls. Sometimes life isn't fair, Bonnibel tried to calm herself down.

Sometimes, things just don't work out, she thought as she opened her bedroom window, facing the nightly cool spring breeze. Plenty of other fish in the sea. Bonnibel retreated back into her room and embraced one of her science experimenty glass tanks from the bedside dresser. Another chapter of a book? She tried recalling another extremely lame proverb to console herself as she rested the tank onto the windowsill, but drew a blank. It was more comforting for her to take the glass and furiously toss it out of her second-story window, relishing the painfully splintering shatter the tank gave as it was crushed on the driveway. She once made a promise to a population of algae that she'd marry science, but she'd rather die alone at this rate. Perhaps it was better to deal with things this way.

* * *

AN-

more suffering

but i have ideas for the future, more to come for sure

look out for marcys next moves heheheheh


	5. Chapter 5

Just fuck it! Fuck everything! What'd I do wrong? Why should I waste my time on some nerdy jerk anyway. I was never good enough; never smart enough at real life things like her. She thinks she's so much better than me, well fuck that. I don't need to waste my time trying to impress someone like that.

At the end of the night, they got down to partying. At some other random basement-turned-venue, the bandmates and some other fans got around the table for good old beer pong. It was the first time in a while Marceline felt lighthearted, and had a good time without thinking about heavy things like girlfriends or whatever. She won three straight games, but lost a few as well, causing her balance and aim to suffer. They laughed and joked, even as Keila accidentally slipped in some dudes vomit on the kitchen tiles.

She felt the love she used to have for the music and for "touring". The adventurous feeling was the only thing that relieved her from the stress of college and real life. Responsibilities. It was a trade-off. Obviously there were times where she wanted to quit the life of living in the same clothes for weeks, or constant arguing with the other members. There was a balance, and each had its drawbacks.

One thing she definitely used to take pleasure in was the attention from suitors. Lots of people have a weird fetish for musicians; she never really understood it but loved to take advantage of it.

Marceline did have more experience with men, but preferred the beauty and softness of a woman. This night, however, her drunken blurry attention was caught by the guy that had puked all over the kitchen floor and was then cowering on the bottom of the stairs outside, clutching his belly. After sporting his gross, vomity hickeys, then holding him after he broke into tears, she was pretty turned off. Marceline nostalgically longed for the meaningful touch of someone she'd lost. More, someone she threw away.

There are always two sides to a story, but Marceline needed to spare herself from Bonnie's. It was because she was scared; she was afraid of all the power that girl had over her happiness. She was afraid of there actually being an excusable reason for her having a boyfriend, and her having to accept that. That was the last thing Marceline wanted; the first thing she wanted was to get Bonnibel back.

* * *

Banging.

That was the sound that haunted Bonnibel all afternoon.

It seemed that her stunt with tossing the glass tank out of the window resulted in a loss of some of the porch's roof. Her father grumbled and scolded her for being so careless. Yes, she was sorry for forgetting to take it off the windowsill, yes she _knew_ she could have killed someone.

So he hammered the afternoon away (probably due to his lack of experience in carpentry as well), much to Bonnibel's distain. Her mind went softly numb at the constant noise. Monotonously, it carried on and on.

Why couldn't the hammer just come upstairs and strike her in the temple, out of her misery? Couldn't it bang out all of the memories of Marceline's rainy natural scent; her skilled and confident touch filled with love and control. Recalling that feeling made Bonnibel roll over in frustration, pressing her thighs together.

_Ungh, cut it out, that hurts..._

_You say how it hurts, but I know you like it._

She always felt so invigorated by that idea; the thought of Marceline forcing her to like it. Like she had no choice but to lay there at her mercy and take it.

_How would you know?_

Bonnibel trailed her palm up her abdomen, pushing up her pajama tee unconsciously.

_Because I can feel it; I can feel you get tighter and want it._

Because Marceline did have control over her. No matter how far away she was, Bonnibel's body would respond reluctantly to the thought of being possessed by this girl. She did want it. She always would want it. As her palm massaged its way up and down her supple chest, her breath caught, remembering the way Marceline's irises flashed dangerously.

Marceline pushing my thighs apart.

Marceline forcing my knee to my chest.

Marceline turning me over, then lifting me by the hips from behind.

Marceline pushing my face into the pillow if I'm too noisy.

Her watching me spread apart slowly, then fall apart.

_How is it? Answer me, or else; don't make me spank my own little princess._

That got her. Bonnibel found herself under her own panties, chanting "_Do it, do it"_ under her breath to the ceiling.

_I wonder if anyone else could believe good-girl Bonnie would be_ begging_ for some dirty-_

And then a knock at the window.

Bonnibel shot up, heart pounding in surprise. She got up in a hurry and looked out the window, to her beckoning father. Luckily, from the vantage point of the window, there was no way he could have witnessed any of her lewd acts. Still, it was very unsettling.

She pushed up the window. "Hey, what's up? Any progress?" Bonnibel tried to act as composed as possible, and tried to shake a disciplining Marceline from the back of her mind.

He peeped up from the ledge of the porch's roof. "No, no I don't think so. That tank really did a number." He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his band. "It must've been seriously heavy. You think you can take care of the broken glass in the driveway by tonight?"

"Yeah, for sure. Sorry again, Dad."

"Mistakes, you know." He pulled himself up with a _hup_, and dragged his torso into Bonnibel's room. He swung his knee inside, and jumped into the pink bedroom as Bonnibel stepped back. "I also dropped my ladder, so I'm quitting for the day."

With that, her dad left. Her thoughts buzzed in her mind like it was a wasp nest. Unsettling thoughts plagued her as she channeled the Marceline from her fantasies again.

* * *

Guy was always the good guy.

They always say that good guys finish last, and the pun applied to him. Guy was that guy since puberty. He never understood where he went wrong. The only girl he'd ever loved was Bonnibel; she was the prettiest and smartest girl to him. He'd do anything for her, and always hoped that would be enough.

Obviously he could tell Bonnibel's true feelings most of the time.

He could tell how she shied away from affectionate kisses, and looked away during sex. She pulled her hand out of reach when Guy wanted to hold her hand, or found distractions when he came over.

Guy always wanted the day where she'd come around and appreciate all the love and dedication there was.

It never came.

So after Bonnibel hit him with the reality, it seemed so unfair. She always kept him around like something was gonna change. Everyone was planning on them to be together forever except for her. Guy was distraught; his whole life plan was around the idea of her. He got a job to start saving to support them and start a life together.

"You know, sometimes I feel like Bonnie's just _off._" He once brought it up to a high school friend during a lunch break.

"What'ya mean?" The teenage boy had a mouthful of cafeteria food, and his voice was shadowed by the roar of the lunchroom.

"She's just kinda, I don't know, shrugs me off." Guy pushed his food around absently. "Like she doesn't even need me."

"Dude," his friend stopped him. "It adds up now, man. She's just a cake boy."

"What?"

"You know, a dyke? I hear that a lot. Or maybe your fucks just suck."

Guy couldn't properly deal with his loss. An eternity of working three days a week at a suburban arcade?

After work, he hit up some friends that they graduated with; they let him know of some bands coming through to a local DIY venue; some basement rented out under the only Chinese place for miles. There would be beer, girls, music.

He did. Drink after drink, it was only Bonnibel who wracked his mind. There is no one else. There will never be anyone else. Even as he violently vomited on the porcelain tiles of the basement's kitchen, Guy only thought of her. Even as he sobbed, alone on the stairs, the alcohol could not wash her away.

Little did he know, there was another poor soul suffering from the same girl's manipulations. That poor soul distracted him from his pain for a little while.

They both ended up being drunk enough to forget the conversation, but remembered the gross sticky feeling of vomit between their kissing.

Guy was disheartened by the fact that he gave the rocker beauty a regrettable time. It contributed to the rest of his tearful night.

Between the two of them, one gained a definite resolve to return to her princess. The other, however, spent the evening cursing his circumstances, a bitter loser to a rocker beauty.

* * *

So when Bonnibel heard the banging at night, she didn't know what she was hearing.

She thought she heard the sound of a hammer, mending her impulsive mistakes.

The sound of her frustration being healed over.

She didn't respond at first. Not until the moonlight spilling into her room flickered, being obstructed by the shadow of an intruder.

Fear caught in her throat; Bonnibel didn't want to panic until she knew for sure it wasn't her dopey father making some kind of prank, or possibly in serious danger on the roof.

Bonnie got up and slowly creeped in the shadows, up to the window that was being viciously banged on. From behind the curtain, she peeked into the darkness of the night.

A frustrated huff was given at the revealed identity of the "intruder", then she pushed up the window.

"Marceline, what the hell, how did you find my house!" Bonnibel spat on a hissing whisper. Marceline balanced against the edge of the windowsill, beautiful nightshade face contrasted beautifully against the beautiful flicker of shattered glass on the driveway. The sight gave her the strangest feeling of relief; and simultaneous feelings of anxiety. "How did you get this _ladder?"_

Marceline's face scrunched up at all the questions. She was going for a more pleasantly surprised reaction. "I asked Lady for your address, and for your information, this ladder was just lying on your yard!" She brought her knuckles to her forehead.

"Are you _drunk?"_

"How else could I have come here!" Marceline put out her hands to grip the window for balance, then hiccuped. "I kinda wanted a happier response," she grumbled to the side, running her fingertips on the edges of the wooden panels.

In any other situation they would've kept arguing. She would've yelled at Marceline for driving drunk and trying to break into her house at 3am. Somehow, it melted back into normalcy, as Bonnibel slid her arms around the girl's neck and brought them close. The warm embrace was full of soft sighing and a relieving release of tension for the both of them. "I am happy," she said, dipping her lips under Marceline's ear and placing a soft kiss. She wanted every action she took from now on to represent her longing during their time apart. Bonnibel wanted to give one hundred kisses to keep Marceline from storming away again. She wanted to use all her breath explaining everything that happened and how sorry she was. How everything was a misunderstanding. But they held each other, and Marceline came all this way; mutual forgiveness was speaking for itself.

Then it became apparent as the ladder started to sway that a window was between them, so Bonnibel helped the wobbling rocker inside with a stumble.

Marceline took a glimpse around in the dark, and took in all the pale pink in the moonlight. The innocent frills and girlish charm of everything was what she expected from her princess, but it was especially endearing to see in real life. "Cute digs, princess."

Every time she heard that pet name, chills wracked her spine.

She took Marceline's hand in hers as the girl walked ahead, inspecting pink wall paper, childish stuffed animals and framed photos of camping trips. Bonnibel marveled at the sight of the sweaty, beer-stained beauty in contrast with the rest of her soft, posh surroundings. Her dark, inky hair was a cool, black velvet that gave her an almost supernatural image. "Thanks," Bonnibel gave a nerdy smile, and felt her heartbeat pick up. She tugged on the hand she claimed, bringing Marceline to face her. The moon contributed to the girl's enigmatic complexion; she looked like a dream with drunkenly glazed-over eyes. Looked up at her, eagerly. "Thank you for... dropping by?" A giggle.

"'Ey," Marceline scolded, bringing her forehead down to Bonnibel's in false intimidation, causing Bonnie to giggle again. "Lots of girls would be _elated_ to have me crawl into their bedrooms in the middle of the night!" She tried to keep up the harsh attitude, but faltered at the sight of Bonnibel's earnest face grinning up at her. A comfortably perfect silence came over them as they stared at each others' satisfied smiles, until Marceline slid her palms up hers sides, up her nightdress, to cup her face in her palms.

Marceline pulled down to bring their lips together into a soft, moonlit kiss. It trailed into a few more, then several gentle nibbles that grew into playful bites. Bonnibel encouraged by holding her wrists in her hands, yelping cutely at the rougher bites.

"I am," Bonnibel breathed against the girl's teeth.

"Are what?" Marceline seemed distracted by devouring her supple lips.

"Elated. Maybe slightly..."

"So you missed me, princess," she stated, pulling Bonnibel's face into another kiss.

She was hypnotized. Dizzy by the hazy touches. "Call me that again," she whispered.

"Let's lay down," Marceline suggested, nudging her backwards gently, "Show me how much you missed me, my bubblegum pink princess." Kisses down the throat and hands skating under the cool nightgown.

From this lighting, Bonnibel could spot lovebites Marceline was already sporting. As she was entranced by the lips on her jaw, she wondered about the people she'd been with while they were apart. It sparked some feeling deep inside her, but in the end, the girl was with her. Whoever it was she was cooing and whispering to before, Marceline left them for her princess, didn't she? These questions and concerns fled her mind as those hands worked every part of her body into a dripping ecstasy. The rainy, nightshade scent overcame her, and her jaw dropped once her loneliest place was being attended to. She decided those concerns would be for the morning.

* * *

AN

there was supposed to be the sex scene and more drama

but i got tired its 4am

and like, marceline and guy hooking up gross

i also just realized guy was supposed to be in marcelines band oops whatever

but cute scenes ahahaha more drama comin thru

antierotic


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